From My Heavy Heart

After I wrote my blog yesterday depicting my less than wonderful day, I got some news I was completely unprepared for - though I had been waiting since April to hear it.

I woke up this morning hoping it was all just a bad dream only to realise that it is very much real.

It was literally about an hour after I laid down my complaints on this thing that I heard the news - through facebook chat at that. I was alone in my room at the time and to say I had no idea what to do with myself would be a total understatement.

I was in the middle of trying to get some work done, and I had planned to study for the test I have today; needless to say, it never happened.

The next thing I knew I was on Alafaya with my purse, my iPod, and my phone. Who to call and what to say? I had no idea. Every time something goes wrong I always feel as if I am the only one going through it, but that is only because I am away from my family and it hits our home, not anyone else's. So I just decided to walk until I ended up where God wanted me to be.

I walked for about an hour until I found this small hill just off the road. I knew before I fully approached it that that was where I was to end up. The sun was setting on the lake behind it and there wasn't too much traffic. I figured if it ended up that I'd sleep there overnight then by all means, I was ready to do so.

In the midst of my slight irrationality, I managed to worry a few people. I never meant to be "selfish," but please excuse my uncontrollable reaction. No doubt you were only concerned, but I needed some time away from myself, my phone, my computer, my room - everything.

Four hours later, I ended up on the stairs of my apartment building, and my phone ended up on the road 3 stories below me - after I angrily deleted all of my BB contacts. I had hoped a car would drive over it, but I went downstairs a few minutes later to find that not only was it still in one piece, but it still worked.

I write to you today from my battered and bruised blackberry, with an even more battered and bruised heart.

I tried my best to sleep the pain away last night, but it is still very much present.

Ready, Set, Fetal Position.

Today was a bad day.

I woke up early for an appointment, spent too much time and money there, and ate way too much at a Japanese restaurant where I was told that I ate the last caramel banana spring roll last night when I patronised said restaurant. Excuse me, what? I thought desserts were made on a daily basis?

Wrong.

I won't talk about the water that had powdery white stuff on the bottom either. The same water I never usually drink because it is Orlando and I swear they have never heard of filters. Too bad I was broke and needed something to wash down the pill I had to take. It also did not help that I discovered the substance after I had already downed about half the cup, and my amiga was on her second.

Further, I am overwhelmed, to say the least, with all of the work I have to do this weekend alone. I have to read 7 chapters and do a half page summary of each chapter for a book I have yet to receive in the mail. Oh, and let me not forget to mention - the book is in Spanish. (Speaking of the mail, I am still waiting on my colour ink that UPS claimed they delivered on the 16th!)

Reading seven chapters of a book of preference is like cutting ice cream, but unwillingly reading one in a different language is like cutting open those plastic things that certain electronics come in. (You know, like the ones in Best Buy that after about five minutes of aggressive impatience you have to stop yourself from thinking they really never meant for you to open it in the first place.)

What really set me off in my bad mood though, or maybe "bad" is the wrong word, is that I decided to tell my life story to someone who I thought should know it. No problem there except for the fact that I never realised how many bad memories I had forced myself to forget, and how undoubtedly difficult it was to go through them all over again in my head.

Yes, I admit, I have plenty of baggage. The saddest part of it is that after about 2 or 3 hours of my rambling, I realised that I really only skimmed the waters. There is so much more that remains untouched. The many incidents I have tried to consign to oblivion are now revisiting me and carrying me to a place I forgot existed.

It makes me wonder if the smile I slap on every day is just a pitiful cover up for a girl with way too many problems to even remember half of them.

The worst part of all of this is the Essay I have to write for my Grammar class tomorrow about a "humourous" experience from my childhood. Oxymoron much?

So About That Nap..

I most definitely got about 15 hours of sleep last night. What a drastic improvement from the usual tossing and turning endeavor that keeps me awake all night.

My first grammar test is tomorrow, and I cannot say I feel completely confident. Partly because I missed the review to go to the airport, and partly because phrases and clauses are rather confusing.

Let me explain that airport thing. The person who was supposed to carry myself and him to the airport had a sporadic test to take. Leaving us one hour before the flight with absolutely no ride. I exhausted my "friends" for the favour until I realised most of my friends up here do not drive. My old roomies were my first calls - I figured if I could count on anyone - but they all had class. No hard feelings, since it was super last minute. (When I say last minute I mean really.)

To add to the stress of trying to find a ride, I was halfway across my entirely too large neighbourhood checking my mail when it started to pour. (I tell you all the time Florida's weather is unpredictable. What is it; You do not believe me?) By the time we got back to my room, we were drenched with water and had to put things together, change clothes, and rush out to catch the taxi that we ultimately had to pay a deadly $50 for those 22 miles to the airport.

Then after we saw the person off, my friend Bee-Marie and I were stranded at the airport for a few minutes. Thankfully Orlando Airport is like a mini-mall and we managed to pass the time until our ride came by taking pictures with Goofy and Snow white. I am sure all the little kids were looking at us and wondering "Sup with those girls? That's MY GOOFY!"

Now can you see why I was tired? After my fun-filled weekend, and weeks of sleepless nights I think it was long overdue.
*Side-Note*

Is it mushy to hold hands with a significant other? I seem to be the only one in the world who does not think so. It probably does show affection, but I think it is a much more acceptable way to publicly do so without swapping spit and without making someone want to throw-up. Sometimes it says "You're mine and I'd like to show you off to the world," other times it is more like "hey let us pretend we are lesbians so that ugly guy over there does not come over."

Why do I do it then? Because it makes me feel safe, in either instance. Everyone needs a hand to hold right? Both figuratively and literally.

So where do you draw the line? When is it acceptable to hold hands? I am not sure; but I think if you can take it for what it is then it is just holding hands. Nothing more, nothing less. Make it more complicated than that and well, it will be.

Bee-Marie gets the photo cred for this one..